Pinned Down
by Vanessa S. Quest
Summary: Number 4 in the Series, immediately after RSVP Killers and before Mile High Club. Pinned Down, Shouldn't be Like This. Reid stops in to the BAU after being on leave, a case comes up and one thing leads to another... Please R & R!


Come Wednesday morning, SSA Derek Morgan was thinking of a few things, like where the hell he should go to find a good book for Reid as a Get Well Soon present, since he didn't think men gave each other flowers even for such a sentiment as 'I'm sorry you got shot'. He was not thinking he'd coming into the office and see Reid, that thought had never even remotely crossed him after the past two weeks of Reid's desk being empty.

Come Wednesday morning, at 9:02AM as SSA Emily Prentiss came into the office running two minutes behind schedule, her thoughts rotated on the extra paper-work she had picked up with one agent down. Thoughts of which files to prioritize were much more sweeping than a messenger back sitting on a desk that should be empty and untouched until it's recipient returned to active duty within the next month or so.

Come Wednesday morning, at 9:10AM when SSA Jennifer "JJ" Jareau came into the bull pen to announce a case, she did not expect to see a lank, pale figure clutching at a cup of coffee looking so completely at ease, despite having been absent for weeks, to even really register him at first. "Meet up in the Conference Room in five…"

Come Wednesday morning, at 9:10AM SSA David Rossi was banging on SSAIC Aaron Hotchner's door demanding answers, answers that he didn't even want to hear.

Come Wednesday morning, Penelope Garcia performed a flying glomp-tackle that sent SSA Dr. Spencer Reid into a wall and string of near-swears as he recovered from the sudden movement and rush of pain that accompanied said movement. Hotch's eyes were wide at the sight of Reid wincing in pain and bit back the sharp reprimand he'd have given Garcia if he didn't realize just how worried she had been over Reid. The remaining agents, sans Reid, were all wide-eyed upon just seeing him, there, in the office. Particularly shocked since his medical leave was anything but up. Reid's eyes were wide, much like always, as he took in the sight of the room before plopping into a chair to listen, casually ignoring Hotch's dirty look as he read the man's lips about 'you said you wouldn't work'.

Reid smiled and shoulder shrugged, lipped an, 'just sitting in…' It was probably the least productive briefing in the team's case-history, since everyone was focusing on the fact that Reid was sitting in the room when he should be sitting in a chair sipping a cocktail of pain-killers that they all knew damn well he wouldn't take, but JJ took it in strides as she repeated for maybe the eighth time, she wasn't even keeping track herself, that there was a spree killer shooting up public arenas in the downtown Richmond area. Before anyone had even thought much about it, Reid was already pitching in ideas, getting wrapped up in the motions of solving the crime.

Calls of 'we leave in ten' near echoed as everyone, sans Reid, had loaded into the SUVs, Reid texted Hotch making claims of taking a cab to go back to the Hotchner household before lunch, just as promised. Hotch appreciated it, because in work mode he had half-expected to see Reid slide into the back seat behind JJ and himself, Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi having jumped into the other vehicle.

The positive thinking that had swam through Hotch's mind about being glad Reid would still go home to rest were quickly deflated as reports flooded about the spree killer being on the move. In fact, when word hit that he was in the Quantico area now targeting government facilities, no one expected it to be possible for a madman to make it into FBI HQ, but somehow that gnawing worry was there.

Hotch was sure he wasn't the only one who called Reid, but he was the first one to reach him as the young man had waited outside for his cab to arrive. That had also been the last call to come in before open fire sounded on the opposite end of the line.

The air inside of the Tahoe became cold, still, and tangible. It and time suddenly threw themselves in their faces as fear and anxiety played behind his eyes. Morgan was dialing Garcia and JJ was dialing LEOs to alert them of the gunshots. Hotch was so caught up in the sudden gunshots that he almost forgot to listen for cues from Reid, his hearing ever since being damaged a few years back, had made hearing for telltale signs like breathing into the receiver that much more difficult and at the moment he was truly regretting that.

Nausea almost instantly evaporated when he heard Reid articulate, "Shots fired! I think your spree-killer took a detour! Caucasian male, late 30s, salt-and-pepper hair, flannel print shirt, grey pants, combat boots, looks ex-military."

"Reid! Get behind some cover… get _inside_ if you can." Hotch ordered, his grip on the phone was putting cracks into the plastic, the thought of replacing his blackberry didn't even strike him as he continued to assess the situation. "JJ, what's the ETA of the LEOs?"

"Three minutes." JJ informed, "How many shooters are there? They're getting SWAT ready to roll in behind the first responders."

"One shooter." Hotch relayed the description at this point, while Morgan continued to discuss animatedly with Garcia the details as well.

"Garcia's pulling up the surveillance, she says Reid's in the company yard… Hotch there's no cover for him there!"

"Reid, where are you exactly?" Hotch didn't know why he'd doubt Garcia, she probably had him on live surveillance feed.

"Currently, behind a cherry blossom tree and the sign for Quantico offices… crap… I think I just popped a stitch…" Reid touched his stomach, pulling his fingers upward to spot a soft tinge of red in the fabric of his shirt and tips of his fingers he replied, "Scratch that, I _know_ I did."

He was gritting his teeth, Hotch could hear the strain in the other man's voice, but he kept that bit of panic quiet. "Reid do you have your gun with you?" In that moment, Hotch wished he had the luxury of an eidetic memory to remember if his lover had worn his gun in that awkward position in the front of his hip, but he couldn't say for certain. He was wearing what Reid usually wore, a plum button-down dress shirt, charcoal vest and matching tie, and tweed pants with a lighter grey color with his bizarre socks and black loafers. He even wore his watch on his wrist over his shirt cuff, he remembered that, but not seeing the gun…

It wasn't that he didn't remember, it was he didn't remember seeing it, because Reid didn't have it. He hadn't worn his gun, that's right he hadn't worn it because he wasn't on active duty. That's the thought that struck Hotch across the jaw with the momentum Mike Tyson was famous for.

"No, but I have an idea… Hotch, you trust me right?"

"Reid…?" Hotch waited for a moment before hearing several more shots, "REID!"

"I'm fine, it's not me… he's shooting at the cops. Trust me Aaron, I've got this."

The Tahoe hit 107MPH as Reid uttered those words, Hotch chanting to himself, 'Almost there… just another ten minutes…' knowing full well that ten minutes was more than enough time for things to end badly or just end.

Reid was looking throughout the area, running horizontally behind him was Pennsylvania Avenue, a distance behind that was the yard and the mad man, HQ probably was in lock-down to prevent anyone from coming in, but the guards wouldn't pursue him in case it was a distraction, which made no sense but still the security guards had protocol to follow and the LEOs had their own job to do, Reid could chance to run down the street except he didn't know what that would do to his stitched and didn't feel the urge to explore the symptoms of internal bleeding. He could assume response time would have the police responding within the minute, and snipers within another seven minutes. The snipers would want to position themselves across the way, so if he could lure the unsub back toward the street it could be resolved with minimal loss of life…

He took a steely breath, whispered one last, "Trust me, Aaron," and then proceeded to scream; the panicked, blood-curdling scream that would bring neighbors to their front windows or porches to gawk, the kind that made horror movies famous, and the kind that would veer a Tahoe across a lane of traffic at 107MPH if Aaron hadn't suspected Reid of planning something that reckless.

Hotch kept the phone to his ear as he pressed forward, sirens blaring as he cut through the traffic of the HOV lanes, another five minutes, he just needed five more minutes… he prayed Reid had that time to give.

Reid was no longer behind cover, he was screaming wildly, as the madman continued to shoot up in the air and at the reinforced windows, how he would suspect the FBI to not bullet-proof their own windows was beyond Reid, but the amount of force those windows could take wasn't. It was obvious that they made a much better target than him, but the guards bracing the doors weren't immune or impenetrable, Reid knew first hand that Kevlar was not a magical fix-all that prevented bullets 100% of the time. His burst stitches made it clear that every defense had it's flaw, he was also sure from what JJ had mentioned that the unsub wasn't a professional sniper in this or a previous life. As the man kept running through his ammo, Reid knew he was the right distance away to challenge the unsub and keep his own safety the most secure. His screaming was drawing the attention of the unsub just as he supposed it would.

The man was approaching now, Reid took steps back and hoped it didn't turn into a mutual sprint, he had about thirty yards to bring him into a good range for a sniper to take down and his mental tally about the time told him they'd be setting up by this point. The LEOs were in the periphery and if he made it back to a squad car, it seemed juvenile but he assumed it to be like 'home base', Jack played tag, that's what he'd called it didn't he? Reid was more likely to equate HQ as base, but at the moment, the cruiser seemed much more attainable.

Twenty five yards now, Reid knew it was inevitable, there was a charge—the mad man was running at him now, obviously upset that he was still missing, Reid bit back the sting of pain from moving rapidly as he ran, red splashed through the plum shirt and he could tell his sleeve was sticky from where it was contacting with his vest. Blood was leaking everywhere and Reid doubted Hotch would allow him to make any further visits to the office until his leave was officially up following this instance.

Ten yards away, Reid stumbled, feeling a dizziness he had vaguely remembered from a short while back, his mind had done a good job of compartmentalizing the anguished feelings and putting them behind a veil to deal with after the emotional issues were dealt with. On the way to the hospital that first time Reid had been more concerned with telling Hotch that he loved him than being afraid of bleeding to death that he hadn't even realized just how dizzy he had been. It was about as much as he was now.

His legs buckled unexpectedly and he was rolling, he face-faulted in front of the cruiser as the madman approached, Reid kicked himself over to lie on his back. He had to force himself up but right now figuring out which way that even was, was becoming difficult. Two LEOs grabbed him and pulled him behind coverage as three others started opening fire, then there was a resounding gust of wind that Reid affiliated with a sniper's high powered rifle whizzing past his direction. The unsub dropped to the ground.

"He's been shot!"

"I'm not…" Reid tried to correct but was cut off by a flash of pain as some good-meaning Samaritan pressed into the bloody spot, "AGH! Stop… stop…" He tried to catch his breath but was failing miserably, "It's my stitches… I wasn't shot… not by him…"

The officer, apparently versed in first aid continued to apply pressure and pretended to be actively speaking with Reid, but the adrenalin and the event was more than what his own processing speed would allow to actually have a proper conversation, the basics were there though, my name is Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm with the FBI, I was drawing him into your sniper's range, and I tore my stitches in the process gave the officer, "Spencer, just hold on, help will be here soon, you're doing fine…"

Reid reached for his pocket and pulled out his phone, knowing Hotch wouldn't have disconnected, he thrust it at the officer who was shocked to hear a voice come out from the other end.

"Reid, what the hell is going on over there…? Reid! We're almost there, we're two minutes out…"

"This is Officer Arnold Rayes, your friend was…"

Reid pulled the phone away before the man would say something wrong, "I pulled my stitches, it's probably pretty bad. I'm taking a ride to the hospital, the unsub's down."

Working up the strength to sit up, Reid managed to be the first to spot the twin Tahoes and blaring lights as they peeled down the road toward HQ.

Hours after the confrontation, Reid came out of the exam room with a ruined shirt fisted in one hand, a white button-up with pale pink pin-stripes fastened into place along with a mock-glare from Morgan and Hotch as they waited for him to fill out his paperwork for discharge.

He was unsure if Morgan took too long to jump out of the Tahoe or if they had actually stayed behind until enough questions were answered to file a preliminary report, but with Rossi's absence, he was more likely to believe they had headed straight here instead. He fixed a kicked-puppy look onto his features, to try to belay any chastising at least in the public arena. It was strange for kicked-puppy dog eyes to be battle armor, but he had doe eyes and knew how to use them. Morgan folded first, making Reid readily recall how much of a sucker he was when playing poker, but that his friend cared.

Hotch, he was more stony, "You scared the hell out of us."

"Scared the cops too, I think the unsub thought he shot me… but he really was a bad shot."

"He failed to qualify for the sniper division for the Army about ten years ago, it led him to drink, his life spiraled and he was discharged dishonorably. For the past ten years he was trying to get back into a structured regiment, he eventually wound up in the civil-sector with military contracts until a round of lay offs thanks to dropped funding made him snap."

"He probably thought he had improved upon his skills as a sniper after that long of a time frame, you're lucky he didn't." Morgan mentioned, making shooting gestures with his hand.

Reid smiled dryly, "I don't think bursting my stitches puts me in the lucky category, they're still sore." He looked at Hotch for a moment, his eyes begging the question to ask if he was going to return to his apartment or if he was allowed back into the Hotchner home, he realized he messed up scaring his superior, but was unsure how disappointment would effect them within the confines of their relationship.

"I'll drive you home after I drop Morgan off at the office, he still needs to file his report." Morgan gave Hotch a dirty look, who smiled a more relaxed smile in his direction.

"Aw man, you, Reid, are trying to make me go grey." He pointed to his beard, "I don't plan on ever matching Rossi, though, so you better cut this crap out."

Reid laughed, "Morgan, you and I both know you've been plucking grey hairs for at least a year now, you're not blaming that on_ me_."

"Why you sneaky little… you take that back!"

Reid raised his eyebrows as he smirked victoriously, "I noticed it when we shared a hotel room together last year. You even keep the tweasers in your desk, the center drawer."

"I swear to …Hotch he's full of it. I am going to put you in a world of hurt…" He teased, Hotch subconsciously stood between the two.

"Children, behave."

The trio piled into the Tahoe, Morgan sitting in the back so Reid wouldn't have to get in and out of the SUV more than necessary, Hotch drove, after dropping Morgan off he made promises of returning shortly before driving away.

"I can't believe you went that far just to get out of eating in front of them." Hotch mentioned lightly, he looked at Reid, the worry clear in his eyes, "If you pull a stunt like that _again_, I'm not going to stop Morgan from beating the snot out of you."

"Hotch, if that happens to me again, I'm constructing an exact replica of the Pope-mobile and will proceed to drive it everywhere including into the elevator at work."

"Well, if we're on the same page, I'd better get you home. Did you take your prescriptions when you were at the hospital?"

Reid nodded, "Yeah, I'm set until tonight, starving though."

"Want some Thai or something simpler?"

"I'm going to vote soup." Reid let out a sigh, "They said that it was the outermost layers that were ruptured, so chances are I'm going to have a pretty bad scar, but it won't actually effect recovery time too much, since the outer layer should heal the fastest. But I am on strict orders to be a good boy and not do any lifting, bending, or getting shot at."

"I agree with their sentiment. I have some time, it's almost too bad they didn't put you on bed-rest, I could've made use with that."

Reid blushed brightly at the thought, Hotch merely chuckled.

TBC.


End file.
